CHAPTER ONE
Tower of Champions – Twenty Seventh Floor
Richard Penn watched as, one after another, the best humanity had to offer were disciplined like disobedient dogs. Noses gleefully rubbed into the steaming piles of their misplaced arrogance.
It’d been fifteen minutes since they first entered the twenty seventh floor, and already three quarters of the global top one hundred were dead.
Golden lightning arced across an overcast sky, illuminating the torrential downpour which, even now, made a sucking mire of the war torn battlefield. Raindrops, like glittering gemstones, shone with a divine luster, even as each impacted with the force of a fifty caliber bullet.
Was it unreasonable for a summer storm to be capable of decimating the entirety of earths population pre-ascension within seconds? Perhaps. But then, what did one expect when they willingly tread upon a divine realm?
Richard readjusted his grip on the paper umbrella he held in his left hand. Peering out from beneath its blessedly dry canopy at the heated battle still raging in the sky.
Oh my. Would you just look at them go. I mean, they’re really giving it their all, aren’t they? And you know what? I find it admirable. Rah-rah! I applaud your enthusiasm!
A loud snap resounded across the expanse, followed by a shrill scream. Richard flinched back, face scrunched up in a grimace.
Ahh…!
He sucked a breath through his teeth.
Maybe that one could do with a bit less enthusiasm. He’s definitely going to be feeling that one in the morning. Poor guy. Chins up everyone! Go go team humanity! We’re still number one!
Another snap made him flinch. This time, there was no scream to accompany it.
Or… not. Yikes. Might’ve been better to dodge that one friend! Just a suggestion…!
Well, if something so one sided could really be called a battle. He sniffed. Honestly, it was such a poor showing for the home team. They were better than this, were they not? The very best of humanity. The strongest. The brightest. The most attractive…! Weirdly enough. Though don’t ask him why that was exactly. In all honesty, he was just glad he wasn’t the exception to the rule.
If this was some shameless earth IP I’d say it was to help boost ratings.
The universal indicator, to his mind, of a largely vapid project, only ever conceived for the sole sake of printing money.
But then, what do I know? I will say, having bona fide supermodels with godlike powers battle in costumes that rarely remain intact by the climax…? Does make for great tv. Huh. I wonder if the Consortium screened for that…
Either way, surely this wasn’t all they were capable of. Right?
Bodies littered the once grassy field, turned muddy stretch of utter devastation—punctuated by freshly gouged canyons and kilometer wide craters. Each erstwhile brave champion made nearly unrecognizable by the near constant fusillade hammering down from above.
Weaklings always abounded, no matter where you looked, and these few had been those who’d thought to fight for a better tomorrow, despite knowing, very well, that they did not belong. They’d have been better off spending that time with their families, he reasoned, or whatever men and women of their ilk got up to in their free time.
The firmament was awash with the vibrant flash of legendary skills and abilities, as some of the top rankers on humanities global leaderboards faced off against a lone figure. With his enhanced eyesight, he could make out the battle quite clearly.
There was Mark Mathers—ninth on the overall global ladder—with his eldritch menagerie. Currently surfing astride a thing of innumerable tentacles like it was the most natural thing in the world. With three great sweeps of his scythe like regalia, he tore great rents in the very fabric of reality. Out from which a deluge of unfathomable entities poured through—looking like a tide of inky darkness dotted with rippling, deeply unsettling flesh tones.
Within seconds the overcast sky was eclipsed by a sea of overlapping bodies. Three rivers of aberrant flesh which converged on a lone, rather unconcerned looking figure.
The Demiurge, a local denizen of this divine realm—four armed and four eyed, with gleaming golden skin, shirtless, but for the ornamental gold bands wrapping its neck and biceps—cocked his head as if amused by the onrushing calamity. Reclining on nothing but air, he reached back and scratched at his rear.
Then, with a simple wave of his hand, the army of cosmic horrors simply ceased to exist. In the next moment, the Demiurge leapt to his feet. Stepping lightly through the fabric of space, he appeared before a wide eyed warlock as if by magic, a hand already wrist deep in the man’s chest cavity.
The Demiurge retrieved its hand, the man’s still beating heart in tow. The light quickly faded from Marks eyes. He slumped, slipping from his familiar to plummet to the earth below.
Ahh. Tough break friend. Really cuts to the heart, heh, of why summoner builds, while just plain broken under certain circumstances, aren’t always the way to go. Couldn’t be me. Far too squishy for my tastes. Meh. At least it was quick.
Richard frowned.
Although… why does that name sound so darn familiar? Not just from the leaderboards but… Mark…? Mark… wait! Mark Mathers, as in Markus Mathers? Didn’t that guy owe me money?! Oh, that sneaky son of a-!
In wake of its master’s demise, the thing of myriad tentacles violently thrashed in its own death throes. Even managing to catch the Demiurge by surprise—a train car sized tentacle slamming into him with force enough to flatten mountain ranges.
The Demiurge staggered back a couple steps. With another wave of his hand the cosmic horror was no more.
Aiko Tanaka, Princess Water Kami—ranked fourth on the overall global ladder—was next. Leveraging her Royal transformation regalia to its fullest, the now three kilometer long Japanese dragon, with its two long whiskers and three toed legs, opened a cavernous maw of gleaming white fangs, and let forth a pressurized stream several stories in diameter. Simultaneously a comparably sized arc of black lightning joined the cutting spray.
The source of this unmistakable lightning variant was obvious.
Hovering not far away, like a pinprick against the dragon’s vastness, was Daniel Clark—Soul Scourge, Rampant Devourer, Bane of Humanity—dressed, as always, in drab hoody and ripped jeans. His entire frame currently wreathed in black devouring lightning. Number one on the overall ranking ladder.
The pressurized water hissed and steamed in protest, even as the two elements wound around one another. Intertwined. Merged. Combined to form a spiraling beam whose power could be felt, even from all the way down here. It’s newfound potency far far greater than the sum of its parts. The swirling stream of cutting water and all devouring lightning struck the Demiurge dead on, concealing him behind a pillar of raging waters, arcing electricity, and billowing steam.
At least the Demiurge allowed the joint attack to run its course before bursting their bubble. How generous.
The abilities eventually petered off to reveal the self satisfied creature none the worse for wear. In the next moment he disappeared, a bloody line carved down the length of Aiko Tanaka in that same instant. Blood fountaining from the kilometer’s wide bisection, before her draconic body fell earthward in two uneven chunks.
Never was the biggest fan of bestial transformation. Although that might have less to do with my own personal feelings on the matter, and more to do with the folks that always seemed to like it a little too much… I mean, they’re nice people and all, don’t get me wrong. It’s just… a bit too intense at times for my liking.
What followed was akin to watching a bus full of children slowly teeter on the edge, then tilt forward to slip off the Golden Gate Bridge. As devastating as it was inevitable, and Richard unable to look away. Others quickly joined the fray. Others like him that’d been just as keen to sit back and watch the heavy hitters do their dirty work.
Like moths to a flame, they threw themselves headlong. Number eleven, the sword saint, splitting the very clouds in twain with an upwards strike. Ekaterina Petrova, number fourteen, sending wave after wave of massive ice javelins their way. Aaron Rogers, number twenty three, summoning heavily reinforced mana barriers. Julia Summers, number thirteen, calling upon the earth—massive roots spearing high up into the sky.
All of it was to no avail.
One after another, every man and woman who defied the Demiurge was countered. Derided. Slaughtered without ceremony. The very best of humanity reduced to mere chaff. Strewn haphazardly like abandoned dolls on the floor of a child’s playroom. Until there were only two of them left. Richard Penn and Daniel Clark. The bloody butcher himself. A man, no, a boy really, barely a day older than twenty five, who’d devoured the souls of millions to fuel his meteoric rise.
Fat lot of good that did him now.
Held by the neck with one outstretched hand, the boy scrabbled, tugged at unyielding fingers, arcs of lightning, each the width of a draft horse, arcing off of his slim frame by the hundreds. The thousands. The power he was currently putting off alone, likely more than enough to decimate a thousands strong army of B grades with ease.
And yet the Demiurge remained unaffected.
Even with his body grade said to be well into S rank—in the 1500 ~ 2000 lvl range if the rumor mill was to be believed—he, like them, was still as helpless as a child before this lone, domineering figure. This single soldier. Common infantry. What amounted to little more than a forward scout.
It was then that Richard decided that he’d seen just about enough.
Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he retrieved a folded handkerchief. Upon unwinding the silk cloth he revealed a unique item, one-time use, which he’d received all the way back in D grade—upon completing a particularly hellish trial. A trial which, he’d been assured, multiple times over, could only be attempted once. Lucky for humanity, then, that he’d made sure to prepare well in advance. Not necessarily in anticipation of that particular eventuality, more like… every eventuality he was likely to come across.
Less prepared is more dead, after all.
And yet it had still barely been enough. Well worth the time expenditure, though, to his mind. In fact, the item was so good, that it had singlehandedly informed the vast majority of his decisions leading up to this point.
•—|-Lady Opon’s Coin of Cosmic Convalescence-|—•
Grant thee now a second chance, to right mankind's dying dance. To mend the wrongs, to heal the pain, and guide the charge 'gainst future's bane. I choose thee to lead the way, and bring the dawn of brighter days.
Effect: The person who flips this coin will have their soul transported to a point in time, no less than ten years in the past, with their memories of future events fully intact.
Knowing this would likely be his last chance to do so, Richard opened up his personal status with a thought, and skimmed over it one last time.
-|—Status—|-
Name: Richard Penn
Level: 859
Age: 37
Class: Erudite Keeper of Tomes (Epic)
Body Grade: A [1 Star Prestige]
Soul Grade: S
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Core Grade: Gold (8th Level Purity)
Master Formation: C
Peerage: Earl
Noble Regalia: Keeper’s Perennial Tome (Epic)
Strength: 2550
Endurance: 2500
Resilience: 10,000
Regeneration: 5500
Control: 10,000
Mana Capacity: 25,000
Free Points: 0
Abilities: (500/500)
Talismanic Origami Mastery • lvl 147 • [Legendary]
Class Skills: (3/3)
Master of Myriad Languages • lvl 50 • [Uncommon]
MindScape of Meticulous Remembrance • lvl 75 • [Rare]
Truth Seeker’s Sixth Sense • lvl 100 • [Epic]
Equipment: (7/7)
Circlet of Myriad Minds [Quadruple Focus] (Ancient)
Mantle of the Far Seeker [Discerning Eye] (Epic)
Surcoat of the Battle Historian [Battle Trance] (Epic)
Gloves of the Jaded Functionary [Nimble Fingers] (Rare)
World Walker Boots [League Step] (Ancient)
Iron Band of Califear [Area of Denial] (Legendary)
Ring of Plenty [Prodigious Spacial Storage] (Legendary)
Title: |One Man’s Trash is Another Man’s Treasure| [Epic]
The snap of the former #1 Ranker’s neck resounded across the desolate landscape like the final tolling of a sonorous bell. On an unrelated note, in a skillful show of dexterity, Richard began rolling the one-of-a-kind coin between his fingers.
Hah! Would you look at that?! Never even knew I could do it till I tried. Gods, it hurts sometimes to be this naturally talented.
The sudden spike of killing intent lanced through him like a physical blow.
Unperturbed, Richard briefly flicked his gaze away from the tumbling coin. When he did, he was unsurprised to find the Demiurge now a scant few paces away. Just as he was equally unsurprised when his untimely demise failed to materialize. He’d studied the thing intently after all. The deity was clearly a bit of a showboat, and what was someone like that without an equally receptive audience?
He wanted to be seen? Well, Richard was an expert at playing spectator. Why not loan out his services one last time? Clearly the man was bursting at the seams to extemporize some grand monologue or lengthy diatribe. He would oblige him. In this way, he figured his temporary immunity should last him a conversation at least.
As expected, the Demiurge wasted no time in breaking the silence. Upper arms crossed with lower arms held akimbo, he tilted his head as if confused by what he saw. Through the superior translation ability of ‘Master of Myriad Languages,’ his voice came out smooth, cultured, and, strangely enough, British.
“You know, normally those in your position would be begging me for mercy right about now.”
Richard raised an eyebrow.
“Has that ever worked?” he was genuinely curious.
“No. Not really. Oh don’t get me wrong, they do live longer, of course, though I’d imagine they grow to wish they hadn’t rather quickly.”
“Hmm. Yeah that’s more or less what I’d expected.”
The being frowned. Made a point of craning it’s neck this way and that, raised hand shielding it’s eyes, as it scrutinized the expansive field of dead bodies.
“You seem shockingly unconcerned by the death of your species.”
“Well, we haven’t exactly fallen extinct quite yet. This,” he gestured towards the field of dead bodies. “Isn’t everything humanity has to offer,” he said.
“Yes, but it was the best you had to offer, no?”
Richard didn’t respond. After all, what could he say?
“I noticed how you didn’t lift a finger to aid them, by the way. Your racial colleagues. Why is that?”
Richard shrugged.
“What would have been the point?”
The Demiurge stared at him for several long seconds, lips slightly parted, before he broke out into sharp peals of laughter.
“That is, quite possibly, the most reasonable statement to ever come from the mouth of one of you lesser races! Ha! I’m almost tempted to keep you around. I could… I don’t know, show you off at parties or something. Oh, my cousins would get a kick out of you, I can already tell! Hmm. Yes, that settles it! I’ve made up my mind!” he clapped his hands together jubilantly. “You, Mr. are coming with me.”
“Uh…?” Richard frowned. “Huh. How do I put this in a way you’ll understand? Umm… no?”
“Excuse me what?”
“I’m saying, that’ll be rather hard for you to do, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?” the deity asked, still chuckling. “And why is that?”
“Because, by my reckoning, you’ll be somewhat… how would you put it? Indisposed in just a second?”
“I- Huh? Um… wait! No, don’t tell me! Was that supposed to be some sort of a threat? One of your inane posturing rituals? Oh that would be a treat to see. I’d always wondered how you primitives solved your differences. Now I know this is going to be good!”
“You know,” Richard ignored the deity, far too occupied with his own meanderings. “One great thing that comes with reaching the ‘end of the line,’ that I didn’t anticipate, is this sudden lack of tangible consequence for my actions. It’s a bit of a revelation, really. I’ve seen the way things play out. All the way till the end, which wasn’t easy, I’ll have you know.
“My mission, ostensibly, complete. Well, this part of it anyway. Which means that, for the first time in a long time, I’m free to do whatever I please. I must admit, it’s a refreshingly liberating sensation.”
“Hmm… why does it feel like we’re having two very different conversations…? Also, you seem far too relaxed. I’ve changed my mind! I think I’d prefer it if you begged. Yes, I’d much rather that than whatever this is. Hurry up now, I haven’t got all day.”
“That’s… surprisingly astute. And you’re right-”
“Well, yes. Of course I am. Though I’m still seeing a decided lack of groveling. Hmm… I’m waiting~!”
“Your time here is rather limited. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you don’t have much time left at all.”
The Demiurge’s lazy smirk never wavered, though the sharp prick of killing intent had, most notably, made its reappearance.
“Wait wait wait! Let me guess. Another threat?! How original. That was meant to frighten me, yes? To scare me away? Convince me to spare your miserable life, if only temporarily, so that you might scurry on back to your mate—to whatever hovel you call home—and spawn equally inconsequential offspring for the sake of posterity,” he sighed wistfully.
“Poor creature… too stupid to realize you aren’t extending your species, merely prolonging the inevitable.”
“On a not-so-unrelated note,” Richard continued, completely disregarding the thing’s condescension. “I’ve got a large number of consumables in desperate need of offloading. I won’t be able to take any of it with me, after all. And, I mean, the lengths I was forced to go to! Do you have any idea how many rings I had to sift through before I found one that could contain my entire hoard? It took me months, I tell you! Literal months!”
“Listen here, I don’t-!”
“Oh, you don’t? Well, that’s quite alright. I had no idea what I was getting into either, quite frankly. Don’t worry about it. Here, how’s about I show you just the smallest fraction of what I have in store, then you and me can chew the fat like old pals. You know, talk about how awesome I was to have found such an elegant solution and stuff. How’s that sound? Good? Alright then, I’ll start!”
Richard thumbed his spacial ring, and, in the next instant, the pockmarked field strewn with bodies was replaced by a landscape of yellowed talismans. An unbroken field of overlapping paper-slips for as far as the eye could see. The Demiurge frowned, though it was more out of consternation than concern. He sighed.
“Well, I give up. It’s no fun talking with you. And it seems you’ve decided to be difficult after all,” the deity sighed again. “Such a shame. And it’d started out so well!”
One moment, the Demiurge merely waved his hand in Richards direction. And in the next, Richard, along with a large swath of the paper talismans simply ceased to exist. The Demiurge snorted. Began to rise into the air, when a voice caught him completely off guard.
“You know, far be it from me to judge one such as you, but I can’t help but think that wasn’t very nice.”
The Demiurge spun, eyes gone wide. Richard smirked. He couldn’t help it. Literally. The other side of his face having yet to reform—a cyclone of paper talismans settling into the shape and texture of his face and body. Until even his clothes and paper umbrella had reformed, his posture having remained entirely unchanged.
“Now then, where was I?”
In the next instant the entire field of talismans, hundreds of thousands all told, began to glow with an unearthly orange radiance. The arcane writings scrawled across each slip burning with an otherworldly intensity. The Demiurge whipped its head around in alarm.
“Uhh…” Richard muttered to himself, trying to recover his train of thought. “Refreshing lack of compunctions… end of the world bargain sale, ‘franchise discontinued; everything must go!’ Bop bop bop… Ah! Yes, now I remember. Unfortunately for you, I suddenly find myself all plumb out of reasons not to act. Which is a very novel experience, let me tell you. Between us though? I just hope I’m not too rusty. For both our sakes.”
The world exploded into blinding orange radiance.
+++
Richard’s breaths came in labored gasps. Each feeling like he were inhaling burning hot coals. His entire body was racked with pain. Covered head to toe in terrible injuries. The kind which, on a lesser grade body, would’ve proven fatal several times over. His entire left side missing. Arm gone. Leg gone. His left eye socket now a bloody ruin.
Admittedly not great, but then, you should see the other guy.
At a glance, the Demiurge standing before him didn’t appear all that worse for wear. This in spite of the fact that the deity was completely and utterly helpless. Bound by fine wire and flashing golden talismans, not only was the divine being frozen in place, but, unless Richard deemed it otherwise, he couldn’t speak, see, hear, or even taste. Bound so utterly that even the continued rise and fall of his chest was a special dispensation on his part.
For a time, Richard studied the gift wrapped statue, then turned his gaze to his own sorry condition, and finally out over what was left of the surrounding landscape. The final resting place of humanity.
Weak. I’m still far too weak.
Thumbing his Ring of Plenty, he plucked free the very last item held in that expansive space. Opon’s Coin glinted in the evening sun.
I’ve only got one shot at this. To somehow grow strong enough to save humanity from itself. Everything should be in order. I’ve prepared as well as could be expected of me.
He briefly cataloged an abbreviated list of the major events he’d failed to fully capitalize on.
Devil’s Arcadia, The Peerage Games, The Gods’ Tournament.
Events which, he now knew, held such cultural impact, the multiverse over, that governance and industry across entire sector grids largely ground down to a halt for their duration. The advent of a newly integrated universe, and the highly televised system events that followed, widely considered to be an intergalactic holiday. With the rewards for the participants largely commensurate with the hype.
Each a chance, in other words, for members of a newly integrated universe to grow exponentially in power. Not to mention build a reputation as someone to look out for.
And if I play my cards right, every single one of the Consortiums sensationalized broadcasts should be mine for the taking. With everything I know, not to mention my experience, it won’t exactly be a cake walk, but I can’t see a world in which I don’t make significant waves.
He could already feel his blood pumping at the mere thought of it. Which, considering his grievous injuries, was actually starting to make him feel rather woozy.
A month. A single month from Day 0 to cram as much forward progress as is humanly possible. That’s when things’ll really start to get interesting. For now though, all that’s left is to bite the bullet.
And so, without further ado, Richard flipped the simplistic looking coin. There was a high pitched ringing as it’s two faces flipped end over end. One depicting the profile of a beautiful woman, the goddess Opon, while the other, depicted a clock, it’s hands steadily winding backwards in time.
A light breeze ruffled his hair, brushed aside as if by a gentle finger’s caress. The coin continued its whirring ascent, though the sound, most notably, had vanished. Almost involuntarily, he turned his head in her direction, already knowing what he’d find. A memory. A delusion. A figment of the past.
A dead woman stared back at him—little more than a ghostly apparition, really. And yet, somehow, her smile was still as radiant as ever. She mouthed something, her voice lost on invisible winds. It didn’t matter. He could read her lips just fine.
“Good luck.”
The coin slapped into his open palm with an incongruous chime. In that very same instant, Richard’s entire world went black.
+++
He awoke to a strange lethargy in his head and limbs. As if he were being weighed down by something impossibly heavy. His head especially felt… off. As though it weighed as much as a bowling ball would have to pre-ascension Richard.
Hmm. Feels like mana exhaustion, though there are a few key differences. The most glaring one of course being, I don’t think this body even has mana. Is this the side effect of using such a powerful item? It should come with a warning to that effect if so. For that matter, it didn’t mention anything about it being of the divine rank either, which is just plain sloppy. It clearly is, so why not at least mention it?
Opening his eyes, he promptly squinted them against the blinding radiance. Resigning himself to wait the few seconds it would take for his eyes to adjust, he once more tried to feel out his body. Lifting his arms proved difficult, if doable. His legs were a bit easier, while his head remained utterly impossible. Like his skull was filled with dumbbells. What in the world was going on?!
His eyes eventually cleared.
And he was immediately greeted by a deathly pale figure, its blood smeared canines bare inches from tearing out his throat. Acting on years worth of ingrained instinct, he thumbed his ring of plenty, ready to skim through its spacial pocket and…!
Do… absolutely nothing.
Not only because he wasn’t actually wearing any such ring, nor because his frustratingly unresponsive fingers couldn’t have performed the simple action even if he’d wanted them to, but ultimately because the terrifying creature he’d nearly soiled himself over was…?
Yeah, that is definitely a clown.
He scrutinized the dangling carnie. What he’d taken for a sickly pallor was, of course, nothing more than white face paint. While it’s bright red lips stretched in place of blood smeared rictus. Although, he was more than a little alarmed to find that, even with that much needed context, the difference… well, the difference wasn’t nearly as huge as it should’ve been.
Is this what they call a… mobile? One of those bobbles that dangle above cribs? Why does it still look like it wants to eat me, though? Those eyes practically bugging out of their sockets, beady little pupils pointing in entirely different area codes. My god, is it drooling?! Why would they even include something like that?! Who in their right mind would ever buy this for their child?!
And that was when the world itself seemed to go eerily still for Richard. He tried to deny it, but the pieces simply lined up too well.
N-no… it can’t… surely not…!
Feeling like he were hefting up the weight of the world, he arduously swiveled his bulbous head until it flopped onto its side. Large, disbelieving eyes taking in the towering bars of his cleverly constructed cage. The floor strewn with colored blocks. His… dinosaur pajamas.
Oh you have to be fu-!
+—|-CONGRATULATIONS-|—+
People of [Planetary Designation: PL-0017-D38]! Rejoice! For it is your turn to be assimilated into the multiversal fold!